Because Women Do This On Purpose, Right?

My fifty something female boss, an infinite source of masturbatory material over the seven years I’ve worked for her, came into my office last Friday for a brief meeting.

As she walked in, I noticed something hanging from her mouth: a lollipop. One of those Tootsie Pop things with the chocolate in the middle.

Anyway, she’s asking me these questions about some project I honestly never did a bloody thing on, and as I try to formulate my alibi, she’s working that goddam lollipop over like a Theatre District pro. And every time I think I’ve got something coherent to say, she starts pushing that thing into her mouth and pulling it out and pushing it back in and swirling her tongue around its shiny head and my mind turns to loose change.

And she starts raising an eyebrow, as if she’s disturbed at my inability to produce an adequate response, and all I want to do is scream HOW THE FUCK CAN I THINK STRAIGHT WHEN THE BOSS IS FELLATING A PIECE OF CANDY IN FRONT OF ME? But she keeps on working it, rolling it across her lips, biting at it, then moving her tongue along it–showing this fucking confection more action than I’ve seen in about three months.

Then, without missing a beat, she lays down the law, informs me of my deadline and what she expects of me, and punctuates it by crunching off the top of the pop with her teeth. And walking out of my office.

I gotta be honest: I’m tempted to fuck up that deadline. Y’know, just to see what the punishment might be like.